


Baby Weight

by timkons



Series: commissions [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Eating, M/M, Mpreg, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: Five times Kon blamed it on the baby and one time it really was the baby’s fault.





	Baby Weight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [an anonymous commissioner](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=an+anonymous+commissioner).



> a commission for a lovely anon! prompt: "timkon accidental mpreg (with kon as the carrier) and an emphasis on chubby kon + extra pregnancy weight." if you're interested in me writing a piece for you, [check out my commissions post](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!

**1.**

No.

No, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

Kon may have been feeling nauseous longer than a simple cold lasts, and he may have gained a little bit of weight in the past two months, but there was no way he could be _pregnant_ , right? He brushed the nausea off on the changing seasons, even if the little voice in the back of his head reminded him that his Supersenses were immune to such things, and if he gained a little weight, well then so what? Ma’s pies were delicious and he should just watch what he eats a little bit more closely.

But changing weather and Ma’s pies couldn’t explain why he was still carrying what looked like a food baby even after upping his training regimen, or why his ankles began to swell after just a few minutes of standing up.

It’s not like Kon can just go to doctor and get a check-up; he knows very well that his only options are between Luthor’s freaky lab and Clark’s isolated palace (and The Batman’s personal lair, if Kon had a death wish), and Kon will take the creepy, isolated palace any day. He packs the pregnancy test he bought on a whim into a plastic bag and stuffs it into his back pocket to keep safe for the flight he’s about to undertake.

It’s a joke, he reassures himself. Nothing more than another instance of human technologies responding badly to his Kryptonian biology. “As if I could be _pregnant.”_

-

One mildly disgruntled Kryptonian, a judgmental hologram, and two hours of poking and prodding that Kon will never get back from his life, Clark claps his hands together and turns to Kon.

“Well, that settles it!” Clark says in that bright voice that reassures civilians that It’s Going To Be Alright. In that moment, Kon knows better than to trust it. “This is kind of awkward, but, well…”

“What is it?” Kon asks, his voice tight with anticipation and concern. Inside his chanting a mantra of, ‘not pregnant, not pregnant, _not pregnant.’_

Clark smiles and tilts his head, and the delay only makes Kon’s heart race faster. “I feel conflicted in saying this, but congratulations!”

“For what?”

“You’re pregnant.”

The words come as a blow as physical as any other and far more powerful, leaving Kon feeling like he just got the air knocked out of him. “I can’t be!”

“You are. For about six weeks, if the data are correct.” Clark crosses his arms over his chest and assumes the Dad Face he’s seen pulled against Jon one too many time. “About that: you’ve been told _how_ many times to be safe?”

“Me and Tim are both guys! How is this even--? No. No, I can’t handle this right now. I just, I need--”

“You need to _breathe_. It’s going to be okay, Kon,” Clark assures, and the palm he settles on Kon’s shoulder even feels like things really will be alright, but Kon’s already breathing in short, shaking breaths as he attempts to come to terms with the severity of this. He’s not even aware of himself as he bats away Clark’s comforting gesture or when his eyes begin to burn red around the edges.

Nothing more than another instance of human technologies responding badly to his Kryptonian biology, Kon’s ass. If he screams, well then, that’s the _baby’s_ fault.

-

**2.**

“Gee, Kon, you’re eating for two, not _twelve.”_

Kon looks up from where he’s angrily stuffing his third helping of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He still hasn’t quite come to terms with the severity of the situation, but he’s resigned himself to his fate. Given the fact he’ll be a whale in a few months anyway, he’s found comfort in eating lately, a victim to his cravings.

“It’s the baby’s fault,” Kon says, brandishing the spoon he licks clean like a blade. “Clark says the baby’s making up for my body only being half-Kryptonian.”

“Hmm.” Tim takes a seat as he hums thoughtfully. Kon honestly freaked out twice as much as Tim after breaking the news, but Tim’s remained a steadying anchor throughout the entire process -- at least so far, which, to be fair, has only been a few weeks. Sure, they’ve been dating for about a year and both are super comfortable with each other both as friends and lovers, but that didn’t mean they were ready for a baby. Kon guesses Tim’s used to it after Steph, but it’s not something he likes to think a lot about, his blood coursing with something sharp and hot, no matter how many years had passed since they were a thing. “I wonder how it’s going to work out. Being a quarter-Kryptonian baby and all.”

“I swear if I have to listen to one more of Clark’s lectures on the Kryptonian reproduction system or safe sex, I’m going to explode,” Kon moans, leaning back in his chair. He takes a deep breath and fixes a look at Tim, one of desperation and misery. “Long story short, it’s going to be longer than a human baby. No idea _how_ long, just longer. And Kryptonian babies are, like, big. It’s… It’s kind of scary and honestly the whole thing freaks me out and--”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Tim reaches out a hand to place over Kon’s, where Kon looks down to see he’s bent the spoon he’s holding into the shape of his clenched fist. He releases it with a whispered apology, his breathing only getting worse at seeing physical evidence of how outside of control of his body he is. “Don’t stress or the baby will stress.”

Kon can’t help it; he snorts. “Of course. The _baby.”_

Tim watches him with that assessing gaze that makes Kon want to squirm, but instead of some kind of scolding, he teases, “are you jealous?”

“I’m not-- No! It’s not even a baby yet!” Kon insists, but he feels his face grow hot under Tim’s amused, brilliant smile. He hates that thing Tim does sometimes -- the one where Tim thinks too much and too hard and knows things about Kon before Kon knows it himself -- but mostly he loves Tim for it.

“You are, I can tell! Aw geez, it’s _our_ baby. No reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not! Cut it out!” It’s like Tim can read minds because he pulls up his chair right next to Kon and slings an arm over his shoulders. This has been one of the recent changes Kon _is_ aware about, the physical affection, but unlike his jealousy, he doesn’t mind it at all.

“Alright, no more teasing,” Tim says, even though his grin is still one degree away from full-on laughter. It’s sweet and wonderful right until Tim’s gaze dips down, settled just below Kon’s chest, and this time his tone is pointed. “But seriously, are you okay?”

Kon’s used to Tim staring at his knife-sharp six-pack, but it still weirds him out when Tim stares now. Perhaps staring isn’t the right word, since Tim immediately looks away as if he hadn’t noticed anything strange, which only makes it _weirder_. Whenever Tim does that, Kon feels soft and bloated and everything Superboy shouldn’t be. His boyfriend’s been good enough not to touch unless Kon initiates it, but the fleeting looks are something Kon’s still trying to get used to. He shifts in place and pretends not to notice the way Tim thinks he’s being discreet in that Robin kind of way, but it’s not until Kon reaches out for his hand that Tim truly looks at him again. “As long as you’re here, yeah. I think I will be.”

-

**3.**

“Aww,” Kon says, happily grinning as Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston pick out a labrador puppy on Tim’s insanely huge big screen. He’s been munching on a bag of chips since the beginning of the movie, and he idly pulls out another after he’s licked the crumbs from his lips. “Cute dog.”

“I guess,” Tim casually agrees, though his tone lacks the judgement of when Kon used to point out adorable canines a few months ago.

Before the baby, the only thing they’ve really fought about is how many dogs and which breeds they want in their life: Kon wants at least three and one of them has to be from a litter of Krypto’s; Tim doesn’t want any. Feeling a bit vindicated by the way the main characters choose a dog to test their hope of parenthood, Kon nudges Tim in the ribs. _“See?_ Dogs are an awesome idea.”

“Maybe.” Tim’s lips purse together, which Kon has always liked. Tim will _never_ agree that Kon was right and he was wrong, but Kon sees the glimmer of doubt in his eyes. He also sees something else, something that Kon only sees when there’s only an edge of blue around the darks of his eyes at night.

Kon shifts self-consciously, though he doesn’t have much space to move with the growing weight of his stomach. “What?”

Tim looks away, and Kon swallows, hoping that Tim wasn’t staring at the way his cheeks had filled out or how his chest is beginning to soften. “Let me have some before you eat them all.”

“Sure,” Kon says, offering the bag.

The bag crinkles as Tim’s fingertips brush against it, and he only pulls out the smallest chips Kon had pushed aside. “The whole bag? You’re lucky your skin doesn’t stretch.”

“Baby’s fault. I need energy to help it grow and watch lame movies,” Kon insists, regaining some of his confidence, though his cheeks turn a little pink. The bag had been light for several minutes already, but then again everything seems light when you have the strength of a Super. “And-- Dude, seriously? I’m hungry like _all the time_. Your baby is a beast.”

“Uh huh,” Tim teases, but doesn’t say anything back. Kon takes a page out of Tim’s book, not saying anything when Tim’s hand casually pushes up against his stomach, where his t-shirt has an, “oh my god, Becky, look at this bump,” motto over his very noticeable bump. His cheeks feel hotter than they were at the bit of teasing about the chips when Tim’s hand slips beneath the shirt and rubs at the patch of skin where his linea nigra is beginning to show, but his chest feels tight with a warmth that only comes from knowing he’s loved.

-

“Oh my god. Oh my _god._ No, no, no. I can’t believe they’re doing this!” Kon grabs at his hair and tries to hold back the tears already welling in his eyes. _“Tim.”_

“Do you want me to pause it?” Tim asks, tentatively reaching for the hologram that’s controlling the movie.

Kon sniffs back a sob and shakes his head. He takes in a deep breath, plants his feet on the floor, and attempts to steady himself. “No, I-- I need to see how it ends.”

“Okay.” Tim nods back and settles into place again, where he’s been holding Kon’s hand. This time he leans a little bit closer, rubbing his cheek reassuringly on Kon’s shoulder. “Just let me know if it’s too much.”

“I can’t believe this. This is the saddest thing I’ve ever watched,” Kon admits. He watches for another good moment before letting out another pained yelp, having to look away from the screen as Owen Wilson says the final words to the dog actor.

“You know,” Tim begins, and Kon can’t understand how Tim can be so calm right now, “it would probably be the baby’s fault if you started crying right now. Hormones and all.”

“Yeah,” Kon chokes out. A single tear escapes him as the dog whimpers, making Kon’s voice crack when he speaks next. _“Yeah.”_

Kon allows himself to be wrapped up in Tim’s arms and pet throughout the remainder of the movie. He can’t feel any judgement radiating off of Tim, but he knows it should be there. He can blame the baby for feeling so emotional while watching _Marley & Me_, but honestly he knows it’s because he can’t think of anything else besides Krypto.

After the movie, Kon struggles to his feet and announces: “I have to go home right now. -- I mean, not here. Smallville.”

“Gotta see Krypto?” Tim asks, smiling softly when all Kon can do is manage a nod. “Then can I come with?”

Kon stops for a second, but as soon as he remembers how to move, he smiles through his tears. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

-

“Don’t. Say. Anything.” Kon says it in small, stiff breaths, from where he’s laying on the couch with Krypto curled around him, the dog taking over his lap, butting his nose against Kon’s baby bump, and licking the underside of his tummy.

Tim holds out his hands in surrender and takes a seat next to Kon, where Krypto’s tail wags and he yips excitedly at Tim. Kon can tell that Tim already had a quip about dogs, but he appreciates the lie of, “wasn’t gonna.” He appreciates it so much that he doesn’t say anything when Tim’s hand cups his bump and thumbs circles into his slightly pudgy tummy.

-

**4.**

“You want fries with that?” Tim jokes, but by the way Kon looks up with pleading eyes, Tim knows his words are being taken seriously. “Please tell me you’re kidding. With _chocolate?”_

“It’s a _caramel_ sauce,” Kon corrects moodily, dipping another wafer cracker into the jar he and Tim only use for topping ice cream, “and it _tastes good._ Seriously, perfect combination of sweet and salty. It’s all I can think about lately, it’s kind of annoying. Wanna try?”

Kon smirks as he watches Tim eye the wafer, which dusts Kon’s fingertips in a thin coat of sugar and drips the thick, light brown sauce.

“No thanks.” Tim’s tone is as wary as the look in his eye, but it’s gone the instant Kon sees it. “I don’t know, Kon. Aren’t pregnancy cravings supposed to be like pickles and jelly?”

“This baby wants caramel and french fries,” Kon says easily, shrugging. If he’s a bit defensive, well then it’s just because he knows better than to trust the way Tim oh-so-casually takes a seat beside him, as if he was dealing with a serious talk with _Superboy_ and not _Conner Kent_ , Tim’s boyfriend and, more importantly, baby mama. (Baby papa? Baby papa. Kon liked the sound of that better.) “Anyway, what’s the big deal?”

“There’s no science to officially prove it--” Kon immediately sighs and stuffs another cookie in his mouth, anticipating where this is going and resigning himself to his fate. “--but according to the research I’ve been conducting--” Ah, yes, there it is. “--there’s evidence to suggest that pregnancy cravings are linked to the needs of pregnant bodies.” Kon tries not to think of how Tim emphasizes _bodies_ rather than _women_ after this whole ordeal, though he does appreciate it. “So a salty craving could be potentially linked to low blood pressure, a fondness for fruits or vegetables could indicate a nutrient imbalance, or craving of sweets could indicate that the body needs to put on more weight to sustain the pregnancy.”

Kon hums around his fingers one-by-one, pulling each one off with a pop. “Okay. So what?”

Tim takes a deep breath and uses his ‘don’t be mad but I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear’ voice. “Well, that’s the thing, Kon. You’re fine as far as weight goes.”

Kon settles his sugarless hand on his stomach that had rapidly increased through the past few months, a sign of his biology. He doesn’t want to even think about his chest, which was a sore -- literally -- topic still. “It’s a Kryptonian pregnancy. It’s different.”

“I understand that,” Tim says, taking in a deep, steady breath, “but if we can trust Clark’s calculations, then you’ve already put on all the weight you need for this pregnancy.”

Tim grumbles something and Kon feels his mouth twist into a frown; Tim knows _very well_ that a mutter like that wouldn’t escape Kon’s enhanced hearing. The addition of, “and then some,” makes Kon drop his wafer on the plate before it even makes it into his mouth. “Are you calling me fat?”

Tim places his hands together and tries for his best mild face. “No, I’m just saying that I already knew you liked french fries and caramel _before_ the pregnancy.”

Kon shoves the little bit of effort it takes to push away from the table and out of his chair to the back of his mind. “Yeah, well I never liked french fries and chocolate sauce, and that’s what the baby wants now!”

Tim eyes him like he’s about to protest, but Kon rubs his bump and knows he’s won. It’s a bit of a dirty move since he’s grown to find Tim will do anything if Kon uses the baby and how its been changing his body against him, but Kon would literally _kill_ for some fries right about now. It’s just an added bonus that Tim watches him like his weight is something special and nothing like how it makes Kon feel inside. 

-

**5.**

“It feels like you’ve been pregnant forever,” Dick says over a brunch he’s treating Tim and Kon to. Of course, brunch by Bat standards is at two in the morning, not that it’s a problem with the baby kicking Kon so hard at night that he would be up anyway. They’re seated on a park bench and eating hotdogs from a street vendor, which isn’t appropriate breakfast for Kents but a perfectly acceptable breakfast for Bats. “It’s going to be nice when the pregnancy’s all over, isn’t it?”

“I _feel_ like been pregnant forever. But yeah, he’s always active around this time of night. I’m not going to miss him dancing on my bladder,” Kon admits. He readjusts himself so that he can settle the side of fries Dick bought him on his stomach. The embarrassment of being able to use his stomach like a holder had passed months ago. Nowadays he’s just glad his pregnancy offers something useful other than cleaning out any leftovers from the fridge.

“I bet.” Dick smiles, and Kon notices for the first time that Tim learned it from him. It’s an easy, open smile, one with adoration and a hint of playfulness in it. “How long do you have left? No more than a few days, by the look of it?”

Kon huffs so hard that the fries balancing on his stomach wobble. “Try two months.”

“Wait, seriously?” Dick nearly drops his hot dog, looking to Tim for confirmation.

 _“Seriously.”_ Beside him, Tim nods with a weak smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean--”

“It’s _fine,”_ Kon says grumpily, hoping that his tone comes across as ‘it’s anything but fine.’ “Nothing I can do about it. It’s the baby’s fault for taking so long.”

-

“Way to go, Replacement!” Jason praises, his head cocking to the side to Kon’s stomach better. Despite his rough looks, Jason had been pretty sweet about the whole ordeal, and his face even has a hint of pride as he looks up and down Kon’s stomach. “Twins or triplets?”

Kon’s jaw clenches, especially because he can hear how _sincere_ Jason is about it for once. Luckily, it’s Tim’s hand squeezing his and answering before Kon grinds his teeth so hard that he breaks his molars. “One, actually. Kryptonian pregnancies are more intensive.”

‘More intensive,’ was the language Tim had settled on, expertly avoiding any any language that had upset Kon over the past months.

Jason whistles and makes no show of stopping his staring any time soon. “No kidding, he looks like he’s about to pop.”

“Baby’s fault.” Kon barely pushes the words past his lips and he feels his blood begin to boil, something which takes Tim’s hand cupping around his stomach and giving a playful pinch to ease.

-

“You’re past due,” Damian says bluntly over breakfast. He’d been decent up until a certain point, but it seems like eleven months is Damian’s limit. Kon doesn’t blame him; eleven months is Kon’s limit too.

“Longer pregnancy, longer baby,” Kon replies back monotonously. It’s an implicit question he’s answered at least a hundred times, and the curiosity around his stomach doesn’t even phase him anymore. That, and he’s been eating for about twenty minutes straight and he can barely breathe let alone talk. It’s slightly painful and he knows he overdid it, even if the baby _did_ demand extra eggs and bacon after his third helping. Tim’s hand on his stomach had become commonplace in these final months, especially now after eating, when his stomach only felt better after Tim pet and massaged it.

Damian’s eyes are as sharp as a blade, even as he attempts his best at witty banter -- an apple that didn’t fall far from the tree considering his dad is the Batman himself. “Does that excuse longer periods of eating as well?”

“Baby’s fault,” Tim says before Kon can. Kon drops the butter knife he was about to wield as a weapon, feeling more than protected by Tim’s few words. He grins at him and Tim smiles back with a wink.

-

**+1.**

“You look big,” Jon bluntly says while holding his hand against the place Kon guided his wrist to settle over.

“Jon, that’s rude. What did we talk about last time?” Lois reminds. She turns to Kon with a pleading look that Kon knows all too well. “Sorry, he’s just excited to have another cousin.”

“Sorry,” Jon echoes. He pulls an annoyed but obedient expression at his mom’s words, but it’s quickly forgotten against the flutter of movement beneath Kon’s shirt. Gleefully smiling, he shoves another hand against Kon’s stomach. “He moved!”

“It might be a she,” Time points out, holding their son in his lap. “We’re hoping it is, actually.”

Lois takes a seat on the loveseat facing her couch and curls up. She knows Supers too well to show the slightest hint of envy, but Kon thinks he can feel it radiating off of her, especially the way she’s looking at Jon play with his stomach. “How sweet. I guess it’s true the second pregnancy shows more quickly than the first one.”

“Oh no,” Kon says, looking up with a tired but joyous curve to his smile, “it’s twins this time.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. He stands their baby up and walks him across his lap to Kon’s bump, resting his tiny hands against Jon’s. “So blame the babies.”


End file.
